


In Your Eyes I Shine

by ThatOnePersonOnEarth



Series: Rebellion [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Assasinations, Betrayal, Denial, F/F, F/M, Mind Games, Past Lovers, Reincarnations, Unrequited Love, Yandare, mentioned mpreg, possesive behavior
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-07-22 01:40:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7413595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatOnePersonOnEarth/pseuds/ThatOnePersonOnEarth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is my very first story here so please let me know if there's any errors? </p><p>Anyways, there's this guy who calls himself Faux who also happened to loose all his memories before being taken in by the Chantry, but as a mage life isn't very pleasant...so when his teachings come to an end he has no choice but to work as a scribe for the Divine until a years worth of teachings is repayed, but we all know what happened at the Conclave, right?</p><p>Let me know what you think!! Enjoy:)</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Your Eyes I Shine

Chapter 1: Two Birds with One Stone

_"Is that him?"_

__

_"Yeah, don't look at him, or else you'll get cursed..."_

__

_A young man sat at the rim of a fountain, dainty feet dangling a few inches above the rippling water._

__

_"He's a freak! I heard that..."_

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_His empty eyes stared at the reflection in the waters with a sense of defeat. His back still ached from the lashings he had received a few nights ago from one of the brothers who were recently assigned to his wellbeing._

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_A monster they had called him...all because he 'tempted' one of their senior brothers._

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_The old man had been his mentor for only a few short months before he was supposedly 'cursed.'  He was to blame and the brother was relocated to different part of the main Chantry._

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_At a little over 18-years old, the young mage was confined within the main Chantry's inner walls, only seeing the light of day through artificial means, as the ceiling to the garden was enchanted to mimic the natural movements of the sun and the moon._

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_Despite the harsh discipline, the chantry remained fair, allowing him small luxuries such as these._

__

_He wasn't the only mage who's presence graced the inner halls here. A small handful of mages from well off families attended the weekly sermons held by one of the chantry mothers that were designed to help 'purge' them of their magic. He wasn't allowed to look at them or anyone else for that matter, so his eyesight was always temporarily disabled by a silk cloth that was tied over his eyes, the fear of them falling under his so called influence provoking such caution._

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_"It's time to go to your studies, my Lord," came the voice of a young woman. She was new to the chantry so she wouldn't stay by his side for long..._

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_The young man turned in the direction of the words and nodded. He carefully removed himself from the small fountain and began to make his way to the so called 'study.'_

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_He reached out to lay a small hand against one of the pillars that dotted the Chantry, and dug his fingers into the faint carvings etched into the marble. He withdrew his hand and continued onwards, stopping at every pillar to make sure he was going in the right direction._

__

_It wasn't long before he was in his dubbed study, a room who's walls were blanketed by paintings that bore images of everythinghe's ever dreamed of. The depiction of various scenarios graced the many canvas' adorning the wall, none revealing so much as a single hint as to who he use to be._

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_Small easels, designed specifically for him, were lined up near the left half of the room with shelves and small tables occupying the other half.  Sealed tins of an array of colors were neatly organized next to a variety of paintbrushes that were clean and ready for use._

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_More luxuries he was given by some 'eager' brothers who use to visit him on a daily basis._

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_To the far left corner were a few more paintings, stacked against the wall. He had them deemed useless._

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_They consisted of the everyday scenery from places the young man had never so much as thought of. One in particular was unlike the rest, as it was simply consisted of a golden room, void of life as the elegant throne situated at the center refused to glow even though a ray of light lit up the entire room._

_-0-_

"P-Please...let me go..." Faux' cries fell onto deaf ears as the man behind him pushed him flat against the wall with a heated groan, his hands groping the mage through his tunic. "You monster...for years I managed to retain my vows, and now you've ensnared me..." The man bit out that last part with a throaty moan when he grabbed a handful of Faux' pale locks to bring to his lips.

The mage felt tears come to his eyes and squeezed his colored eyes shut. People always seemed to loose interest whenever he denied them his eyes, so when he was slapped clean across his face, Faux knew that whatever had taken ahold of the man had left.  "Do not mention this to anyone mage! Am I clear?!" The man hissed.

Faux nodded, his hand itching to nurse his cheek yet he made no move to do so until the man was well out of sight.

The mage let out a faint sob and curled in on himself as the tears were finally allowed to flow freely down his cheeks.

The closer his impending trip to the Conclave became, the more bolder the men in the chantry became in their violent advances. From what the 18 year-old gathered, many were relieved that his time in the inner Chantry was finally coming to an end. As a mage, he was frowned upon within the chantry and in order to keep his sanity in tact, the young mage managed to convince himself that he would be treated otherwise once he left to the Conclave.

His attendance within the Divine's presence would mark his time at the Chantry as complete, and in return for a year of teachings, he would remain at the Conclave as a scribe until his debt was repaid.

Knowing that delving into his sorrow over what had just happen would offer no comfort, the blonde numbly wiped away his tears and began his daily routine of painting the fading images he had dreamed of that night before.  The once cherished hobby had already lost its appeal long ago, and Faux could now barely lift the paintbrush, his wrist aching underneath the bandages that he ended up having to use to soothe the strain. The only thing that kept him gravitating towards the faint smell of paint was his determination in recollecting his time before the Chantry, with his dreams being the only windows into his past.

Dipping the paintbrush into a tin of forest green, he began to recreate the scene that had been plaguing his dreams for the past six nights.

From an observers point of view, the scene was merely a first point of view of a cloudy sky that glowed ominously in an array of greens. Shattered ruins could be seen in the corner and the slight glisten spoke of tears.

-0-

Much to Faux's relief, his friend Vincent, one of the many templars stationed within the Chantry was assigned as his escort to  the Conclave, and even though Faux was beyond excited at finally leaving the chantry walls, he also felt a similar sense of dread.

Vincent was four years his senior, having started his training at a young age. He along with many others flooded the chantry walls a few years prior, before Faux's arrival. However, the reason behind the sudden increase of templars was never spoken of...at least not around Faux.

Faux was unaware of Vincent's background, but the knowledge that the templar has not once attempted to touch him was more than enough for the mage to consider the man as his friend.

The only downside about the trip was that his vision needed to be magically impaired throughout the entire trek, and if that wasn't bad enough, Faux learned that once he was settled within the Conclave, he would have to go through the process of becoming Tranquil...whatever that meant.

The Chantry insisted that it was for his wellbeing and of those around him, since it wouldn't do for a scribe under the Divine's care to be allowed the use of his magic.

The three day trek to the Conclave had been uneventful, Vincent finishing off some bandits with ease and the two only stopping to make camp for the night.

Faux was only allowed a moment rest after the camp fire was put out and he was safely tucked away in his tent.

His dreams remained silent.

-0-

Once they arrived at the conclave, Vincent had to steer the mage through the crowds, making sure to stand as tall as he could to discourage others on approaching the pair, doing so out of duty and a more...personal reason.

While a templars main duty was to protect the people from mages, Vincent deemed himself am excellent judge of character and found that Faux was quite the charming lad. The templar was aware of Faux' supposed ability to blind people with lust, and despite being very dissatisfied with his friends treatment, he could only do so much, such as switching shifts with his fellow templars to wherever he knew Faux would spend the most time.

Vincent didn't mind the extra hours and all he had to do was make his presence known with a grunt or lazy stretch.  They knew better than to harass his friend under his watch.

The man snuck a glance at his friend who was dressed quite well in silk robes of royal blue with the mark of the Chantry stitched into the back with strings of silver. His feet were encased in slippers of silk encrusted with tiny translucent gemstones that sparkled as he walked.

Around his neck was an extremely thin chain of silver with the a pendant bearing the symbol of Val Royeux resting against his chest. It rested comfortably against his robes, a sign screaming to everyone where he completed his teachings, with the pearl in its center informing onlookers that he was under debt until the jewel was removed.

The duo got curious and part lingering looks by a variety of nobles, his teachings making him a valuable asset and if a noble pushed enough, they could have him in their service with a few smooth words and the promise of three times his original debt paid in gold.

"People are staring aren't they..." Devon whispered.  Vincent refused to answer, although his protective nature stirred as he felt the beginnings of a small tremble radiating from his friends shoulder.

Once inside Vincent brought the mage to a seat that was isolated from the others and finally relaxed.  "You can relax now," he told his friend, just as the divine opened her mouth to speak.

-0-

Pain.

That's all Faux could process as he tried with all his might to stand on his feet.  His eyes watered when wisps of foreign smoke seemed to seep through his eyelids.

'Where is this...' He thought, taking struggling steps forward.  He heard a groan and his head flew to the sight, eyes widening when he followed the source to his fallen friend.

"Vincent!"

Faux hurried as much as his aching body allowed him to reach the man, years of blindness making his hearing sharp and able so he could easily locate his friend.

"...Faux..." Came a pained voice directly below him. Faux let out a sob of relief and dropped to his knees, covering his fallen friends form with his own as he clutched the mans armor with trembling hands.

His friends breath came out incredibly shallow and a hand on his cheek told Faux all he needed to know.  

His friend was gravely injured and if not treated...they needed to get back to the Conclave...NOW!

Faux felt a sharp chill on the back of his neck and he spun around, unseeing eyes widening in fear. He couldn't see, but he felt the shift in the foggy environment.

**"Your debt has been repaid..."** Came a deep voice 

Something sharp grazed his cheep, and a soft sting made the mage hiss in slight pain. 

"L-Leave him alone, demon!!" Faux was pushed to the side as Vincent charged at the presence. The sharp sound of the templar drawing his blade, followed by a throaty chuckled, was all Faux heard as something landed beside him.

"V-Vincent?" Faux questioned. He placed a hand on his friends form. His hand met something wet and warm.

It all clicked.

**"I will not be refused what is already mine. Return...I shall come for you when everything falls into place,"** the malicious presence spoke before disappearing. 

Faux paid no mind to the creatures departure and instead felt his resolves shatter.

"No...no no no no!!" He part screamed and sobbed.  He shoved the fallen warrior as hard as he could in an attempt to get him to wake up.  "MAKER!!  DO NOT TAKE HIM!! I AM AT FAULT! PLEASE, TAKE ME INSTEAD!!" Faux screamed at what he pressumed to be a sickly sky.

"...p-please...not him, I-I'll doing anything...so please..." He began to babble, burrying his face into his friends chest, face getting lined with copper and sobs beginning to attract unwanted attention.

-0-

"Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now." Faux was torn out of his dream by a harsh tug on his scalp. Something cold was dragged across his cheek and his eyes snapped open.  Now on full alert, he couldn't stop trembling at the sharp blade that he knew was in his wakers grasp. 

"All those people at the Conclave are dead...except for you two!" 

Faux felt tears well up in his eyes. His throat clenched painfully as his heart seemed to thump harshly in his chest. He frantically looked around and could only see blurry sources of light and two figures before him. A soft groan made him tear up and crane his neck to see the blurred figure of the man he had fallen into this predicament with and used his eyes to beg him for help.

The man bound behind him could only shake his head with a frown. He seemed just as confused as Faux was distressed.

'V-Vincent?! He's alive!! What happened!?' Faux went still as moved his gaze away from his friend instead stared at the hazy ground, eyes wide and unseeing as flashes of their time in that place refusing to surface...or was it all a dream?

He could only remember faint parts of the supposed dream, waking up disoriented with his friends face shining in what he could only guess was worry, drifting back to sleep, only to be rudely awaken by these women..

The woman who had spoken took his silence as a confession. "Explain this!" She spat as she reached behind him and grabbed his companions left hand to harshly tug it, casuing the man to fall forward with a surprised grunt.

Faux flinched when he heard something on Vincent's hand crackle with a sickly green light.

'That's right...he showed me a strange mark before I fell back asleep...'

"I...I can't. I don't know what it is, or how it got there..." The man spoke, his eyes finding Faux. 

"Tell me! What happened at the Conclave?!"

Vincent furrowed his brow. "I don't know! All I remember was running...things were chasing us, and then...a woman...she reached out to me," the man said, a headache coming on from forcing his time in that green fog to the front of his mind.

'So...we were somewhere green...but he says we were running. Perhaps it was just a dream after all...'

"You're lying!" The woman roared.

Faux couldn't stop himself from throwing his body forward to intercept what he perceived to be an attack on his friend. 

"D-Don't hurt him!" Faux stammered out, all too willing to act as a shield. He was grabbed by the front of his robe and tossed aside like a simple sack of grains.

"Faux!" His friend attempted to go towards him, but was held back by the warrior.

Faux groaned as stars exploded in his field of vision. That woman had quite an unusual amount of strength so it was no wonder that the impact would disorient him.

He was unaware of how much time as passed until he was gently nudged by his friend.

"...it would be easier to show you..." Came the womans voice.

Faux squeaked when he was suddenly hauled onto his feet by the she warrior and pulled outside with his friend.

The mage automatically lifted an arm to sheild his eyes as the sun reflecting off a landscape of white temporarily blinded him.

"What is that?" He heard Vincent breathe behind.

Faux quickly regained his now partially returned sight, due to the spell used to blind him beginning to fade and turned to his friend, wondering what it was that put such an expression of slight awe and fear in his friends voice.

He frowned when he noted nothing of special import before he looked up and saw something that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand with a vicious chill.

He had to blink a slight tingle out of his eyes, fully aware that his eyes must be shifting once more in reaction to the gaping hole in the sky and a quick glance around gave him a sigh of relief when no one noticed, his sensitivity to magic bringing fourth such a reaction.

Right above the Conclave, or what he assumed use to be the conclave, was a gigantic hole in the sky that glowed ominously with the same malevolent magic that his friends mark seemed to echo.

"Aghh!!"

Faux spun around to see said friend fall to his knees, attempting to grab his ailing hand. 

Faux darted forward to comfort his friend but the woman intercepted him.

"We call that the Breach.  A tear in the sky that spits out demons and creatures that could very well bring about the end of the world. Each time the Breach expands, your mark grows. If not stopped, it could eventually kill you." She told Vincent.

Faux bit his tongue. He didn't like her...

"So what you're saying is, you need my help to close the Breach?" Vincent asked, with a puzzled expression.

The warrior nodded. "Yes, once it is sealed I can promise a trial," she said.

Faux scowled. "B-But we didn't do anything!"

The woman turned to see his expression and her eyes flickered with something Faux couldn't recognize before ignoring him and focusing on an answer from his friend.

Faux huffed.

"Fine, if it can help dispel some of the peoples accusations, then I'll help," Vincent swore. The Seeker frowned, probbably expecting the mans full support for other reasons.

She pulled out a small key from her belt and unlocked his restraints. She was about to put the key back in its place before Vincent snatched it out of her grasp and used it to free his mage friend.

"Sorry about that," he apologized to Faux. The mage silently nodded. 

'I guess it's not so different out here after all...' He thought with a mental sigh.

-0-

Faux stuck close to Vincent once they had began to make their way towards the camp. He could feel the woman, who had introduced herself as Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast, burn a hole in the back of his head with only her eyes, which in turn only made him clutch more tightly onto his friends forearm.

"Calm down Faux," Vincent whispered into his ear. Faux glared at the man and immediately released him.

"Calm down?! How in Makers breathe do you expect me to calm down?! Have you not noticed the damn hole in the damn sky?!"

Faux froze when Vincent took in a choked gasp before falling to his knees, clutching the sparking mark in pain.

A thundering crash in the distance alerting them that the Breach had just expanded yet again.

The mage was already by his side when the pain seemed to pass, regret flickering in his eyes.

"V-Vincent? Are you oka--!!" Faux hissed when he touch the mans shoulder. His right hand began to sting and he jumped back, clutching it it similarly to how his friend had done.

Vincent breathed a sigh of relief, which caught Faux's attention. 'He's...not in pain anymore?' 

"Vincent...are you feeling better?" Faux asked, uncertain as to if he was the cause of relieving his friends pain. The man looked up at him, confusion written clearly on his face. "Yes...I am. What did you do...!"

The man's words froze on his tongue when he swore he saw his friend's eyes heat up to a hypnotizing violet, a heated jolt surging throughout his body.  For a slight moment, his throat clenched in desire and those pouty lips seemed to be the only thing able to quench this sudden thirst.

Faux looked at his hand that began to simmer down. "I-I don't know..." He confessed.

The mages eye met Vincent's and the templars desire plummeted when he saw the fear and pain in his friends eyes.  Suddenly the violet hue seemed like a far off memory as the man hesitated to place a comforting hand of Faux' shoulder.

The brief moment of hidden desires and confusion disappeared when the warrior spoke up.

"Perhaps we should discuss this later. We need to hurry," Cassandra insisted, although she too seemed curious as to what had happened.

Vincent agreed, continuing onwards, making sure Faux was close behind.

Once they reached a stone bridge, Faux felt an odd child in his gut. 'W-What is this?!' 

Time seemed to slow as he felt the air shift around him. Looking upwards he saw a blast of energy from the Breach heading straight towards them.

His eyes snapped to Cassandra and faster than anyone could blink, he grabbed ahold of her and wrapped his arms tightly around her form.

"Hey! What do you think you're do---!!" The ground shook as the blast shot straight through the bridge, sending the three of them tumbling down amongst the debree.

Faux winced when he felt bits of stone and metal slice his face.

They met the frozen surface of what use to be a river, and the Seeker angrily pushed Faux off her person. "What was that!? I am not some damsel in need of protection!" She yelled, cheeks darkening by a shade.

She froze when she saw an angry red line form of his left cheek. 

"Seeker, your cheek..." Vincent gaped. The woman grew alarmed and quickly placed her hand against her cheek.

Blood met her finger tips yet she felt no wound.

"They match..." She heard Vincent mumble, as he knelt besides his friend and cupped the mages cheek. Faux hissed in pain, making the man withdraw his hand with a haste apology.

"Now's not the time! Demons!" Cassandra warned as she surged forward to attack the figures that emerged from the dust.

Vincent spotted a nearby sword and had it immediately in his possession. A small shine caught his eyes as he found a staff wedged under a broken crate. He grabbed it as well and gently laid it in his pained friends lap.

"For protection," he informed the mage before rushing forward to join his fellow warrior in the fight.

Faux whimpered as his cheek angrily pulsed. He stubbornly resisted the urge to squeeze his eyes shut and bit his tongue so hard that a faint taste of copper flooded his mouth.

'It hurts...so much!' He managed to think.

Grabbing the staff his friend had given him, he used it to shakily stand into his feet and assessed his companions fight. Cassandra flinched everytime the demons rained blows onto her sheild and Vincent could only do so much as another demom attempted to flank him.

Cursing his uselessness, Faux thought of the magic that flowed through his veins and demanded that it serve its purpose.  His gut gave a sickening wretch, his body unequipped with the experience needed to use his magic.

'Now...I have to do something!' He thought, teeth clenching while mentally cursing his magic for not responding how he willed it to.

Faux grimaced when the creatures screeched, signaling the end of the battle and slowly dissipated into nothing.

Frustration at its peak, Faux almost toppled over. 

_Almost._

"What is wrong?" Cassandra asked, a bit peeved that the mage hadn't so much as conjure flames to assist in the battle.

Vincent sensed the agitation and quickly spoke. "Now is not the time, we must hurry."

Cassandra scowled at the use if her own words against her, however it immediately softened when her eyes zoned in on the scar on Faux' cheek.

'He wanted to protect me from harm when we fell...' She thought.

She followed the two as Vincent led the way up the mountains. They encountered a few more demons that were easily dispelled with the two warriors skill with the sword. Much to his dismay, Faux remained out of the demons range since he was out of count when it came to fighting, his magic refusing to comply with his wishes.

She observed how he walked with the staff. It was more for support than for use in battle she had noted. He was in no condition to wave it about, in fact she concluded that he was never in any condition to pull off the fancy twirling and extravagant casting a mage usually performed. That and the odd fact that the mage hadn't used magic at all in their quick battles would've had her questioning his supposed magic if not for her ability to sense it swirling chaotically inside his petite form.

'He's as thin as a twig...but he has magic....' She thought with part suspicion and concern as she recalled his dainty wrists having to bound with custom bindings because they had slipped out of the ones they normally used.

-0-

Faux began to tremble when he began to hear the sounds of blades and war cries, his countless dreams of past bloodshed making his skin turn pale.

"We're getting closer!" The seeker shouted over the noise.

An uneasy feeling began to settle in his stomach and the mage had to pause in order to swallow a gag. Vincent cursed under his breath when they reached a flight of iced stairs.

"The mage is in no shape to climb the stairs, one of us will have to carry him," Cassandra pointed out. 

Faux's cheeks went pink and he quickly launched himself at Vincent, who quickly caught him and offered the woman a cheeky grin. "Well my Lady, it seems our mage has chosen me," he said with a faint smirk of pride.

Cassandra would've replied if it were not for the direness of this situation.

"Ok, now hurry!" She ordered.

Vincent obeyed and bent down to sweep his friend off his feet, before securing the mage in his arms and heading up the stairs.

"Umm...Vincent?" He heard Faux ask.

"Yeah?"

The mage hid his embarrassment behind his bangs. "Why c-couldn't you carry me on your back?"

Vincent chuckled. 

"Because, I've always wanted to carry a damsel in distress," he said, his voice thick with sarcasm.

Faux made an undignified pout and reached upwards to grab the mans ear and lightly twist it, causing his friend to softly hiss in slightly noticeable pain.

"Agh! Haha, alright! I was just kidding!" Vincent apologized.

They quickly reached the battlefield, Vincent gently setting Faux behind a wall of rubble with the command to stay out of harms way.

Devon wanted to voice his refusal, but the two warriors had already charged into battle.

An inkling of irritation showed on the mages face, as he got to his feet in defiance and skirted around the battlefield in order to stay closer to his friend to calm his nerves, unaware of the attention he grabbed from the demons, who paused in their assault and jerked towards his direction.  The soldiers silently thanked the stranger for the distraction, allowing them to finish the demons off in quick strikes.

Despite his mind screaming at him to put as much distance between him and the monsters as possible, Faux was in a terrified yet determined haze.  Defiance shone through but out of respect for his friend, he made sure to stay out of the enemies direct line of sight, just like Vincent had ordered.

He felt a sharp chill run down his spine and his head snapped towards Vincent who was approaching a glowing hole that pulsed with foreign magic.

Using his staff, he hobbled his way towards his friend.

-0-

'No! Why isn't anything happening?!' Solas mentally shouted. He held the young mans hand towards the Rift but the mark merely sparked at the close proximity. 'This is all wrong! The mark should be able to...?!" Solas paused in his frustration to see that the mark slowly began to come to life as a ray of green electricity shot out and attached itself to the rift, a vacuuming suction being heard as it literally drained the rift of its power.

The noise heightened and the young man pulled his hand out of the elf's hold, a small explosion signaling the completion of sealing the rift.

"What did you do?" The warrior asked, astonished at the elf's actions in making the source of all the demons disappear.

"I did nothing. The credit is yours, or should I say...belongs to both of you," Solas said as he turned to see a young man approach them.

"F-Faux?" Vincent called out to his friend.

The young mage had dropped his staff and was just standing there, eyes empty and body...glowing?!

Vincent wanted to move forwards to get to his friend, but Solas held up an arm to stop him.

"Wait, you mustn't touch him until the rift is completely gone," he informed.

Vincent frowned. 

"But it is gone!"

Solas copied the frown at the retort.

"No, look." Solas pointed to the green wisps of energy that swirled around the place where the hole had been.

Vincent furrowed his brow in confusion.

"Allow me to explain--". Cassandra cleared her throat. 

"After introductions, of course."

The elf mage slightly bowed. "My name is Solas. I am pleased to see that you two still live," he said with a faint smile of relief.

No one would know how desperate he'd become when his only means of fixing this mess was almost useless.

A dwarf man stepped forward. "He means, I kept that mark from killing you while you slept. Hello, Varric Tethras; rogue, storyteller, and occassionally, unwelcome tag along," the dirty blond said with a wink in the seekers direction. The woman made a sound of disgust.

"You have already met Seeker Pentaghast," Solas assumed. Vincent nodded, offering a haste thanks for saving his life, ears hearing but eyes never leaving his friends dazed form.

Suddenly, the mages form stopped glowing and the boy slumped forwards with lidded eyes.

"Faux!"

Vincent shot forward and quickly helped his friend to his feet.

The mage looked up and slowly processed his surroundings. "W-What happened?" He asked, a slight slur to his voice. 

"You helped sealed the rift," Solas answered.

Faux blinked owlsihly at the newcomer. "I....I what?"

The mage felt his skin begin to tingle as the foreign magic swirled within him, acquainting itself in his core as he curled in on himself when his eyes locked with the elf who had spoken, his stomach lurching forward in a odd pull.

Solas felt his lips slightly quirk upwards.

"Whatever power opened the breach is the same kind of power in your hand. That power now happens to rest inside your friend here," Solas looked in Faux's direction. 

"I theorized that the mark could seal the breach, and I was right but at the same time wrong. You are able to physically close a rift, but you are unable to prevent it from reopening. Your friend seems to have the ability of absorbing magical residue. You could think of it as holding the wound close and putting a bandage over it," The elf explained.

Vincent seemed upset. "You say that Faux can absorb magic? How is that possible!?"  Vincent then went wide-eyes and began to frantically check over his friend. "Is it harmful?" He questioned, fear evident.

"I'm afraid I cannot answer, I would have to monitor him to keep track of any potential side affects. Although you sound as if you two were unaware," Solas pointed out.

Vincent seemed to refuse to acknowledge the statement and his eyes narrowed while stepping more fully in front of Faux, shielding his friend from the elf's searching gaze.  
"All of that aside, Vincent and Faux are able to seal the Breach?" Cassandra demanded to know.

Solas nodded. "Perhaps, but such an attempt could harm them both."

Cassandra sighed in releif, making Vincent frown.

"Now what?" He bit out a bit harshly.

"Now we get to the forward camp as quickly as possible to regroup with the others."

-0-

Faux batted his friends hands away. "I don't need help, Vincent!" He said, irritaion clearly showing. His friend didn't seem to take no for an answer!

"Are you sure? You're moving a bit sluggishly..." The warrior pointed out. Faux glared when the man made a move to steady him. 

"I'm sure! Just let me breathe!" Faux hissed. The magic from the rift stirred up odd emotions within the mage and found that his friends presence did little than to calm him down.

The mage immediately regretted his words when he saw the look in his friends eyes. "Y-Yeah...okay," Vincent mumbled, walking a bit faster to join Varric in scouting ahead.

Faux sighed.

"He is just worried about you, it wouldn't do good to allow your body to over exert itself," Solas said. Faux glared at the mage. Who was he to tell him how to use his body?!  

The anger came back...

"I don't need people telling me what I can and can't do with my body, so stay out of my business," Faux growled, all feelings of negativity getting the best of him.

He was temporarily excused from his debt for now. Might as well let out a years worth of locked up anger before he was sent back to the Chantry to repay his debt there instead.

He attempted to walk forward but was forced to stop by a hand firmly grabbing his shoulder. A throbbing pain etched itself onto his side and he placed a hand in his lips to muffle a cry.

The older mage frowned at the boy's reactions before his eyes widened when he saw that he was clutching his side, the same side Solas had been struck at by the demons they had fought.

Letting his staff fall to the ground, Solas quickly untied the sash that held his tunic close and parted it, to see that the sickly bruise had disappeared.

'It's gone?!'

Looking at the mage in awe and fascination, Solas repeated the action, opening the youngers robes just enough to get a glimpse of his side, and sure enough, there was a angry red mark the exact same size and shape as the one he had on his person, replicating itself onto the boy, however what really caught his attention was the slight shimmer to the exposed skin.

"Amazing..." Solas breathed in awe. 

He gently brought the tip of his fingers to the exposed skin and gently ran them across the slight shimmer, slowly trailing them towards the center of the forming mark and carefully prodding at the inflamed skin. 

Faux screamed behind his hand and Solas uttered a soft curse in elven, snapping out of his daze before reaching into his satchel and pulling out a healing potion.

"Drink this, it should help with the pain," Solas advised. Faux paid no mind, as he rode out the pain of having yet again, received another injury.

Solas mentally scoffed at the youngers refusal for the potion. 'He has no choice. I cannot let him fatally harm himself to the point of disfunction. He needs to remain in top form,' the elf thought to himself. 

Giving out a displeased groan, Solas uncorked the flask and emptied the potion into his mouth. He held the liquid within his cheeks and quickly administered a small shock of electricity to the mark, making Faux remove his hands to scream, but it was quickly silenced when Solas placed his lips over the boys and administered the potion via mouth to mouth.

Faux made a sound of disgust and attempted to push the elf off, but Solas switly pinned the young mans arms above his head for good measure. 

'Swallow it...' Solas mentally insisted when he realized that the boy had no intention to do so.

Grunting in frustration, Solas bit down on the boys lips, making him open his mouth wider, allowing the elf to push the potion in with his tongue. Faux whimpered as the potion did its job, feeling the ache on his cheek and side slowly fade to nothing.

With the pain completely gone, Faux realized that the mage was still kissing him, and his face went as red as the blood sticking to the mans clothes.

With the potion now partially gone, Solas swept his tongue over Faux' to promote the secretion of saliva, so the boy could swallow the rest on his own. When the boy let out a small whimper, the mage felt his stomach clentch.

Inside he could feel his magic begin to stir...

'Enough,' he mentally berated himself. The elf withdrew, braking the contact, and checking to make sure the boy was not in shock. The clentch turned into a full blown somersault when he saw that the youngers face was rosy cheeked and his lips shining with their combined saliva.

The boys odd shimmer became more prominent and the elf had to stop himself from leaning in for another kiss, a hunger awakening again after so long...

Solas immediatley removed himself form the young mans person and doned a mask of indifference. "There, that should've helped relieve any pain. Although I am curious, has this ever happened before?"

The mage could not predict the hand that swung at him, colliding with his bare cheek. His head snapped to the side, his eyes wide in shock.

"H-How dare you?! I did not ask for my first k-k-kiss to be with--ugh!!" Faux shouted in part anger and part frustration as he grabbed handfuls of his pale golden locks and tugged at them.

Solas couldn't deny the sick satisfaction that came to the front of his mind as he watched the young man have a mental breakdown.

A smirk played on his mouth as he nursed the forming mark on his cheek. Faux was in no way unattractive, with golden locks that flowed past his shoulders and curled at the small of his back, a creamy peach complexion, and those eyes...they were a a mix of pale ice and a sparkling emeralds. The way the suns weak rays hit them already gave them an unearthly glow...Solas could only imagine how they might look in its full shine.

The content look on the elf's face dropped when the mages eyes seemed to have briefly flickered to a more intimate color before returning to normal.  His brow furrowed in confusion.

Faux promptly shot the elf a sharp glare followed by a mumble of mentioned revenge before turning around and stalking towards the rest of the group.

Solas' eyes wandered over the young mans retreating form. He was very petite, with small hands and feet, and the man felt his curiosity peak as he wondered if the mage shimmered in other places too...

He mentally cursed and followed, blind to his own magic that had trickled out to play.

-0-

The journey towards the forward camp was trying, as the energy being spat out by the breach crashed onto the ground, summoning more demons. Much to his disappointment and slight anger, Faux had to stay by Solas, with Varric positioned somewhere elevated and Cassandra and Vincent charging headfirst into the battle.

The first clash with the monsters was easily handled by the mages with Solas freezing the enemy closest to them.  Just as the enemy was about broke free, Solas backed up, pressing Faux into a tree to shield the mage from the impending shards of ice that would fly in random directions.  Howver, before Solas could ready another spell, a bolt of lightning struck the frozen target, shooting shards in opposite directions, in which it coincidentally cut down the demons that were troubling the rest of the party.

Solas seemed impressed. "If you don't mind me asking, who taught you how to use your magic? I overheard Lady Cassandra comment on your lack of...skills," Solas stated.

Faux huffed. "I was never taught how to wield my magic, plus I doubt there's much to work with anyway. The chantry already had enough problems with my supposed curses, I doubt they would've wanted to add to it by giving me control of the very thing they despise!" The human mage spat, obviously still sore from the elfs little stunt.

Solas felt his mood plummet.  The way Faux made it seem, the mage was banned from using magic which could be potentially fatal to mages in general, with the excess magic beginning to eat away at a mages life.

The only thing is that Solas could sense no such event in Faux so the mages story didn't seem to match up. Although, that mention of curses roused his curiosity.

'Interesting...'

-0-

The last clash with the demons took quite a bit out of the party, as Bianca, a crossbow affectionately named by the party's archer, got knocked out of Varrics grasp by a Wraith, a corrupted spirit who's sole purpose was to shoot glowing green blasts of energy towards the party.  Vincent and Cassandra were busy trying to take down a Greater Shade, leaving Solas to take on its counter part. 

The elf was standing between the demon and Faux, as the human was essentially useless.

Solas noted that he would have to teach his fellow mage the basics if he wanted to remain on the battlefield.

The creature took a swing at the elf, but the man quickly deflected it with a barrier he had casted as a last resort, for it used up quite a bit of power. The blows came into contact, but the barrier made sure that no harm could come from it.

"I suggest you run, Faux. We don't have long until the barrier--". Solas spoke too soon as the shimmery blanket faded, making the next blow the creature deliever hit its mark. Solas grunted as he was thrown to the side a small cut appearing above his brow.

Faux tensed, awaiting the blow the demon would surely give him, however the thing downright ignored him and began its way towards the fallen mage.

Faux's magic span wildly as a sense of dread clouded his mind.

"No!" In a burst of blind speed and agility, Faux darted forward and slipped past the creature to protectively crouch over the elfs form, the shimmer on his exposed skin becoming brighter and his eyes revealing their enchanting nature.

The creature seemed confused as it hissed at the human and began to pace around the two.

"It's not attacking..." Solas gaped.

Faux paid the elf no mind as he kept eye contact with the monster.  

The thing let out a guttural growl that trailed off to a ear piercing shriek when Vincent managed to slice its head, effectively ending the creatures existence.

The human breathed a sigh of relief and turned to the mage.

"Are you alright?" He asked. Solas could only nod in response. Faux seemed to slump in relief and turned away to congratulate his friend.

Solas frowned as the mages departure left a barely visible shower of shining particles along with the harsh feeling of daggers digging into his skin.  

-0-

The odd feeling returned when they began to near the entrance to the camp.

Solas seemed to notice Faux' reaction and filed the information away for later use.

"Another rift! We must seal it!" Cassandra announced as the glowing tear came into view.

Vincents hand sparked and everyone charged into battle.

 

Solas was quick to cast a barrier on everyone, ensuring a few moments of protection and Faux seemed to understand the effect he had on the demons as he managed to catch ones attention, giving them the advantage.

Varric immediatley assaulted the distracted enemy with arrows, killing it off before it became a hindrance.

Vincent and Cassandra each took on a Lesser Shade, coming out victorious.

"Hurry, use the mark!" Solas urged the warrior. 

Vincent looked to Faux for assurance and the mage merely smiled.

The man nodded and quickly thrusted out his hand to close the rift. Once it compacted into thin green wsips, Faux form once again froze and shone, the energy being sucked into his body.

With all of it gone, Cassandra gave word to the soilders to open the gates.

-0-

Faux tried to stay away from the Chancellor, hiding behind Solas, who seemed quite amused. When the elf questioned Faux's use of him as a shield, the human angrily whispered that he was the best choice because Vincent was directly talking to the man, and thus a risky shield.

The elf felt oddly pleased that the young man sought safety with him, disregarding the fact that he was a second option.

The chancellor glared at the young mage with narrowed eyes, eyes briefly flickering to the silver glint around the boys neck.

Faux avoided the Chancellors gaze like the plague and busied himself by tugging at loose threads on the back of Solas' tunic.

"How do you two think we should proceed?"

Faux was harshly pulled away from safety by Cassandra, who shoved him directly in front of the Chancellor. 

"W-What?" Faux flinched when the old man threw him a nasty glare. His time in the Chantry coming to the forefront of his mind, making a slight tremble begin in his hands to which he hid in his loose fitting sleeves.

"They want to know if we should charge with the soilders or use them as a distraction while we use the mountain path," Vincent informed him.

"The mountain path is risky, a few of my scouts have disappeared on that path," the woman with the hood said. Her name was Lelliana.

"But charging with the soilders will be safer, though we may loose people," Casssandra added.

Faux cocked his head oddly, and answered before he could even weigh the two.

"We charge but give the everyone a share of rations and some flint. Group them up by tens with each having a basic map of the area. No one will get left behind," Faux answered, his head held high and his stance unwavering.

Vincent smiled and agreed. His friemds teachings shining through.

Cassandra nodded her approval, a new respect for the mage shining in her eyes. Leliana immediately got to work doing as he said, and the Chancellor held his tongue, internally sighing in relief at the notion of less casualties, but still suspicious of the two.

Faux suddenly realized that he gathered the attention of some of the soilders and let out a soft 'eep' before ducking behind Vincent.

-0-

They encountered a rift on the way to the temple, but with the amount of soilders they had, it was sealed in no time.

Faux was in awe as he managed to remain aware of absorbing the excess power after Vincent had closed it. All around him were iridescent ribbons of magic curling around his form.

"You two are becoming quite proficient at this," Solas commented. Faux frowned when he saw that the same magic that was dancing around seemed to radiate from the elf. "Is something the matter?" Solas asked.

Faux shook his head in a small daze, and blinked when the power settled into his core, the foreign magic eating away at the remains of the magic spell and finally returning his vision to normal.

A odd sensation of deja vu made Faux pause as he turned towards the mountains. "Faux? What's wrong?" He heard his friend say.

"...people...on the mountains! There...they're calling for us!!" Faux cried. He remained antsy until they finally reached the remains of the conclave.

Once there he made a sharp right, directly into a cloud of smoke, ignoring the parties surprised gasps. 

The mage was in the middle of trying to climb over a pile of rubble until he was grabbed and restrained by Cassandra.

"No! Let me go! There are people over there! They need help!!" He yelled, desperately trying to squirm out of the warriors hold.

"People? The missing squad perhaps?" Cassandra questioned.

Faux let out a cry of frustration.

"I don't know! They're hurting! We have to go help them!!" Faux cried out, his eyes flickering back and fourth between glowing or sparking.

Solas frowned, noting the odd changes in the mages eyes. "The breach is more pressing right now Faux, we'll just have to move onwards...!!" Solas gasped when the mage turned angry glowing eyes to him. "NO!! WE CAN'T!! THEY'LL...they..." Faux's eyes ceased glowing and he seem to deflate as he sagged in the Seekers hold. 

"...nevermind...let's go," he said, voice dull and eyes empty. The mage slipped out of Cassandra's hold and began to walk towards the fallen entrance of the conclave.

The party merely followed, stunned at such an outburst from the small mage.

Arriving at the courtyard, Faux threw himself to the side to gag.  The sickly rays of the large rift tugging at his insides.  A hand softly patted his back and he mumbled his thanks.

"It seems the power you absorb from the rift reacts whenever you near another...quite similar to how your friends mark does.." Solas noted, eyeing Faux's form in caution. He didn't want the mage to react like he did just a few seconds ago. His skin still spotted goosebumps from when those glowing eyes were directed towards him.

Faux groaned as saliva dribbled past his lips.

Vincent stepped forward to hand the mage a cloth and Faux accepted it with a grateful smile, using it to wipe his chin.

"Thank the Maker, you're here," Faux heard a woman say in releif.

He turned to see Leliana lightly jog up to them, a fleet of soilders behind her.

"Leliana, have your men take positions around the temple." The seeker ordered.

Leliana nodded and began giving out orders.

"This is your chance to end this, are you two ready?" Cassandra questioned.

Vincent helped his friend regain his balance and spoke.  "Are we ready, Faux?" He asked the mage.

Faux couldn't use his words so he merely nodded.

-0-

The way down only served to make Faux' stomach flip as they heard voices echo throughout the conclave.

"What are we hearing?" Cassandra asked, her hand at the hilt of her sword.

"In my guess, I assume the people who created the Breach," Solas answered.

Faux leapt onto Vincent when they neared some malicious looking crystals jutting out of the ground.

"I-It burns!!" He screeched.

Vincent frowned.  "What burns?" 

"It's the red lyrium," Varric said.

"As mages, we tend to be sensitive around concentrated forms of magic. I can only assume that since Faux is currently storing a large amount of magic from the fade his body isn't so pleased at being near such corrupted form of magic," Solas explained.

Vincent winced as his friends cries went up in pitch as they neared.

"Perhaps you two should avoid the lyrium..." Cassandra offered.

Vincent nodded and reached down to lift his friend up and jump over the railings, balancing the two so that he could slide down the debree.

The others hurried in their descent and soon, they were all in close proximity with the breach.

Everyone froze when the area went up in green flames, an image being projected all around them.

Divine Justinia was bound by vicious wisps of red.

 _"Someone, help me!"_ She cried.

A wispy Faux ran out into the courtyard and gasped in shock.  _"Let her go!"_ The mage commanded, fear evident in his voice.

The red wisps surged forward to stab his eyes, making the memory fall back with a pained cry.

 _"Do not interfere,"_ said a thundering voice.

 _"Faux!"_ The party saw Vincent ran to his friends side.

 _"Run! Warn them!"_   Most Holy yelled.

_"We have an intruder. Kill him!"_

The memory vanished in an array of light.

"You two _were_ there!  Who was that voice?  And the Divine, is she..." Vincent frowned at the barrage.

"I told you, we don't remember," he said, his eyes clearly telling her to put the questions on hold.

"This rift, it is most likely being held close by some type of force.  If we can reopen it and then formally seal it, things should calm for awhile," Solas informed Vincent and Faux.

Vincent turned concerned eyes to his friend.  "Are you well enough to fight?" He asked.

Faux nodded, determination shining through the  burning sensation lessening now that they were away from the lyrium.

Vincent gave his friend a smile and placed him on his feet.

"Opening the rift might attract attention from the other side..." Solas began.

"You hear that? That means demons!  Be prepared!"  Cassandra ordered the soilders.

Solas inched closer Faux, ready to test another theory.  

Vincent readied himself and called upon the power of his mark to open the rift.

Faux let out a startled gasp, that went unnoticed to all except Solas, when power was sucked out of him, his head suddenly spinning. However, before he could stagger backwards, a hand pressed at the small of his back and rush of energy flooded his senses.

Faux couldn't respond when an earth shattering roar made everyone charge as a Pride Demon stepped out of the rift with its power charged and ready to attack.

-0-

The first thing that registered in the back of Faux's mind was that he was incredibly warm.

The distant sound of people talking and laughing was what finally made him will his eyes open.  His stomach leapt to his throat when he saw darkness, but when he felt the soft material over his eyes, he sighed in relief.

He gently removed the blindfold and noticed he was in some kind of cabin.

The sound of something falling, made him snap his head towards an elf who appeared to be quaking in fear.  "I-I didn't know you were awake, I swear!" She stammered.

Faux eyed her in curiosity before noticing that she fell to the ground, with her head pressed against the stone floor. An image of himself in a similar position flashed in front of his eyes and he hastily got out of bed, only for his legs to give out on him, making him land on his hands and knees with a barely concealed whimper.

"M-My Lord!" The woman gasped in alarm as she hurried forward only to pause, unsure if she should touch him and invoke his wrath.

"I-I'm fine! Just a little tired..." Faux told her with a forced smile.  

"Yes, you would be tired! You...you've been asleep for three days, my Lord.  After you and your friend sealed the Breach, they brought the two of you here to treat your wounds. It's all everyone has been talking about!" She gushed.

Faux squirmed at the look of awe directed at him, until his mind clicked.  "V-Vincent?! He was hurt?! Where is he?!"

The elf eventually gave in and helped him up, gently pushing him back onto the bed.  "Your friend is fine, my Lord.  He only had a few scrapes, easy to heal with some potions...you however....Oh! Lady Cassandra wanted to know as soon as you woke up!  At once she said!"

"Where is she?" Faux asked, this time, managing to get onto his feet without toppling over.

"In the Chantry, with the Lord Chancellor. At once she said!"

The elf scurried out the door, leaving Faux more confused than ever.

-0-

The ice cold air hit the mage like a slap to the face, however what really made him jump was the soilder standing  directly in front of the door.  "U-Umm, excuse me...?!"  Faux took a step back when the soilder seemed to jump and quickly put his right arm over his chest.  "Yes, what is it Herald?" Faux frowned.

'Herald?'

"Can...can you direct me to the chantry?" Faux asked.  The soilder eagerly nodded.

"Yes sir!  Go straight and then make a left. You'll see it right away," the man instructed.

Faux bowed low in thanks, making the poor soilder stutter.

-0-

The mage felt his heart began to thunder as his skin went as cold as ice when he neared the familiar crest that decorated the doors. The symbol was a cruel reminder of how sheltered he really was.

Cautiously pushing the great doors open, the mage's nerves immediately settled when he noticed his templar friend was standing at the end of the hall, seeming to be in tight concentration.

"Vincen--mph!!" Faux was silenced when his friend quickly shot forward and placed a hand over his mouth.

"Shhh, listen..." Vincent whispered.

Faux nodded and strained his ears until the voices of Cassandra and Chancellor Roderick reached his ears.

The two seemed to be arguing over their supposed trial.

Faux shook off the hand that was silencing him. "He still wants to have us executed?!" He harshly whispered.  Vincent frowned.

"Not if I have anything to say about it..." His warrior friend mumbled.  

-0-

"You there, Boy!" 

Vincent had made Faux wait outside the Chantry while he spoke to the Chancellor.  It seemed the 'talk' bared results as the chancellor stormed out of the Chantry, before noticing the mage.

Faux froze and immediately dropped to his knees before Chancellor Roderick. The chantry man seemed confused at the behavior before immediately recognizing it as an ancient custom of submission to a higher power, a practice that had been banned from the Chantry due to the belief that the only one worthy of such submission was the Maker.

"Stop this at once! The symbol on your back is wasted on the likes of you. A petty mage bowing to a mere human...disgraceful!" The brother scolded.

Faux quickly obeyed, standing up yet keeping his head bowed and hands clasped in respect.

Chancellor Roderick rose an eyebrow.

"Tell me boy, are you really a so callled 'herald?'" Roderick asked.

"I am whatever the Maker calls me, brother. For who am I to make such a claim on Andraste's name?"

The chancellor was genuinely surprised. He hadn't expected a mage to have such faith in the Maker.

Before the chancellor could ask another question, the second so called herald came up to the two.

"You are needed in the war room, my Lord," Vincent said, years worth of serving as the mages bodyguard taking effect.

The boy nodded, before turning to the Grand Chancellor with a soft bow. "May the Maker guide you," he bid to the chantry brother, before turning and heading back into the Chantry.

Vincent watched his charge with a fond look before turing to the man with a hardened look.

"Listen _grand chancellor_ , I don't care if you blame me for the Divine's death. I know I didn't do it and thats enough for me...however, you will **not** accuse Faux of being a murderer! He has suffered more than you could comprehend, and I will not tolerate a threat to my charges safety," Vincent said, tone as solid as stone and holding no room for interruption or opposition.

The chancellor scowled but numbly nodded.

Even he could see that the young man was too docile to even think about harming, let alone murdering the Divine. The symbol on his back was not there for show and was proof of the boy's teachings.

Roderick narrowed his eyes at the retreating form of Vincent.

The templar was not only visibly aggressive and temperamental, it seemed that the warrior was the exact opposite of his fellow 'herald.'

'If this mage is indeed a Herald of Andraste, we must relocate him as quickly as possible! I refuse to let these imbeciles corrupt his teachings!' 

-O-

"This is my Lord Faux, a ward of the main chantry in Val Royeux."

Faux shyly bowed in response to his friends introduction.  "What is the meaning of this?!" 

The mage jumped at one of the occupants outburst.  "Commander Cullen?  What is it?" Cassandra asked, she too a bit shocked at the mans outburst.

The blonde man glared at the mage with lips slightly curled in a feral snarl.

"This thing should not be outside the chantry!!" Cullen growled, taking a threatening step forward.  

Vincent responded by drawing his sword and holding it defensively in front of the mage.

Sensing a potential fight, the seeker stepped between the two.

"Enough! Settle down Commander," Cassandra ordered, firm in her stance as she directed the command to both templars. The commander seemed hesitant but backed off, a frown etched onto his face.

"Why do you defend him Seeker? He is mad! The Cullen argued.

"How dare you threaten what could very well be the makers will! What in andraste's name has Faux ever done to you Commander?" Cassandra demanded to know.

The blonde's eyes widened, lost in a memory before he pointedly looked away, cheeks burning an angry red.

Seeing this Cassamdra continued.

"Besides, I defend him because he is one of the Heralds, Commander, and what gives you the galls to call our Herald a thing?!" Cassandra bit back.  Cullen frowned with his brow furrowed.  "One of the Heralds?  How can a mage be one of Andrastes chosen?" he questioned, suspicion coated thickly onto his words.

"Faux was one of the prisoners Commander. I told you there were two..." Cassandra reminded the man.  "Yes, but you didn't say he was one of them! A mage no less!" Cullen retorted.

"And what's wrong with mages, Commander?"  The blonde templar was about to respond, but held his tongue when he saw that it was Solas who had spoken, the elf just entering the war room.  

The elven mage frowned when he sensed the magic within Faux begin to react to Commander Cullen's aggression.  Taking two long strides forward, Solas placed a hand at the boys shoulder and let out an audible gasp.  The young mage was physically vibrating with power, and from the intensity it sang, it was due to lash out any second.

"GET DOWN!!" The elf shouted, as he threw himself to the ground.  His command went unheeded as Faux let out a pained shriek, visible whips of green shooting out from his form.  Everyone was knocked back by the thick tendrils as they writhed like tentacles before spasming and dispersing.  The green mist began to spread, tiny particles of irradescent magic dancing alongside it.

_"Someone! Help me!"_

Everyone in the room went wide-eyed when they saw the form of most Holy being restrained by malicious tendrils of magic.

"This...this is what we saw at the Conclave!" Cassandra.

The images replayed the vision that was shown in the Convlace, ending with Faux's and Vincent's bodies falling from a rift.

 _"I didn't do it..."_ Faux's voice echoed all aound them.  _"...please...I'll stop the curses...just don't hurt me..."_ .

A blurred image of a room struggled to come into view before it the wild magic seemingly gave up on creating the memory and dispersed.

"DON'T TAKE MY DREAMS FROM ME!!" Faux's voice cried, the green magic crackling sharply before fading to a pale green and shattering in small glowing particles.  The iridescent colored magic swirled gently before spreading out, hitting everyone with a soothing wave of calm and content.

Faux whimpered and fell onto his knees, eyes watering and uttering a series of broken apologies.  

"What...was THAT?!" Cassandra exclaimed in awe.

Vincent paid no mind to the woman and instead got to his feet and went to his friend, bringing the mage in for a hug.

"They were just dreams Faux.  You are fine as you are," Vincent cooed at his young Lord.  Devon shook his head.  "N-No! They're real! My memories...they have to be!!" 

Faux tried to push his friend away but the man refused to let go.  "They were dreams Faux.  You cannot dream of places you've never seen before..." Vincent explained as if talking to a child.  Faux let out a cry of frustration. 

"Stop it!  You're making me forget! Gold and silver, an empty throne room...gone. Light shining but nothing shines with it..." Faux began to mumble, his hands itching to recreate the image to strengthen the memory. 

Solas was in a daze.  What the mage had just displayed spoke of immense power...but how was it that Faux was incapable of performing such simple spells when the boy seemed perfectly capable on displaying physical manifestations of his memories?

"Seeker, I believe our young Herald may have more going on beyond the surface..." He breathed.

Cassandra turned concerned eyes to the mage. "What is that suppose to mean, Solas?"  

Solas moved away from the two Heralds and turned to Cassandra.

"You are well aware that magic is constant, constantly replacing what was spent over time...," Solas began. 

"If not given an outlet, the Herald's magic will eventually force its way out. You can imagine how fatal that could be..."

He snuck a glance at the young mage who had stopped his mumbling and was grasping the front of his friends armor with dull eyes.  Vincent seemed upset as his eyes narrowed when he heard the mage begin to speak of Faux' magic. His friend had no need of his magic as long as he remained by his side where he could protect him.

It reminded the templar of his purpose.

He interrupted the elf by abruptly standing up and leaving the room, leaving his Lord by himself.

Solas found the templars actions odd but continued.

"What we just saw was your magic trying to force its way out of you Faux..." He carefully explained.  

Faux stifled a gasp and bowed his head, feeling the fearful eyes glued to his form.

"I-I never had this problem before...I-I doubted I even had magic," Faux explained.

"You...mentioned something about curses...what kind of curses exactly?" Cassandra questioned.

Solas stood before the silent mage and put a finger under the boys chin to urge him to meet his eyes.

"Faux, how did you come into the Chantry's care..." He questioned gently.

Faux's eyes watered and he tried to shake off the hand on his chin.

"I-I don't know.  I remember being...I d-dream of silver and gold. Dances, silk, and jewels, and then I woke up..." He said, his throat tightening in sorrow.

"...and then...I was Faux. A year in stone," he said with a defeated tone.

"Faux?  Is that not your name?"  
Cassandra softly asked.

Lelliana spoke up. "The main Chantry in Val Royeux is well know for it's secret chambers under the city. It is all constructed in stone, and is only accessible to a select few," explained.

Faux tensed but shakily nodded.

"Y-Yes...they found me in the ruins...!!" Faux gasped and tore himself away from the elf and put his hands over his ears and squeezing his eyes shut.

Solas went wide-eyed. "Ruins? What ruins?"

Faux harshly shook his head. "I...can't remember!!" He shouted.

"What do you mean..." Solas urged the boy to continue.

"I don't know! My dreams are my only memories...I don't know nothing before the Chantry!!" Faux cried.

Solas sighed and turned to the four who drove the inquisition.

"The jewel on his pendant speaks of debt," a pretty dark skinned woman explained.

"Indeed. His clothes and those symbols make him a valuable player in the game..." Leliana added.

The pretty dark skinned woman seemed to agree

"As a ward of the main Chantry, the Herald is well equipped with the names and teachings of those in it. Such information could give those of higher status an advantage in 'persuading' members of the chantry," the ambassador explained.

Solas scowled.

"Which essentially makes him a tool that can be bought by some petty nobles, am I correct?" 

Cassandra's eyes dulled as she sent the young Herald a sad glance, before she seemed to understand something.

"Wait a minute, with information like that we could be sway the Chantry to our cause! We could regain their favor and..." She began.

Leliana frowned.  "Yes...but we would also be extremely vulnerable.  If anyone else got their hands on that information then it could throw our persuasion out the door. We don't have much to offer the Chantry at the moment," the spymaster informed.

-0-

Faux silently slipped out of the War Room, his feet feeling like weights as he dragged them towards the exit.

'Slave...that's all I can hear...I'm not me anymore,' the mage numbly thought.

He saw his friend talking to a chantry mother and froze in his steps.

'It...it dosen't matter. I was never me...and whether I stay or go back...nothing will change...' He thought, his world threatening to shatter around him.

Feeling a fresh wave of tears coming on, Faux began to panic when he saw his friend concluding his conversation with a bow.  

'I...I need to be real!' 

Faux flung himself towards the shadows and waited with baited breath until Vincent unknowingly passed by, giving Faux a clear exit.

He ignored the surprised gasps of the chantry woman when he darted past her and out the doors.

-0-

Surprisingly, Faux wasn't spared even a single glance as he walked through Haven.  Even the soldiers who had called him herald a few moments ago seemed oblivious to his presence.

A few eyes spared him a careless glance and Faux held his breath until he passed the gates and was well away from the small sanctuary.

'They don't remember me? Why?' He thought.

His slippers crushed the fragile snow beneath his feet, letting the icy particles cling to the silk. His mind floated all around as he aimlessly walked forward, unaware of the direction he was going.

A sense of longing made his heart throb.

"Remember...what do I remember..." He thought aloud.

Images of gold and silver replayed itself at the front of his mind followed by memories of a dance he knew that was linked to his past.

"Dancing...I danced for them..." He mindlessly spoke, his feet dragging him to a clearing.

A tingling feeling surfaced on his feet and Faux was filled with the urge to move.

Taking a hesitant step forward, something clicked within his thoughts and before he could process it, his body jumped forward landing gracefully on his toes and giving a soft twirl, him arms spread outwards as if they rode the icy winds like wings.

Faux' eyes slowly drifted close as he relinquished himself to the memory he could only see in his dreams.

-0-

_Skin shone with a soft shimmer as a graceful figure moved in time with the music. They seemed to be gliding as each step seemed carefully measured to bring out cheers and awes from the audience._

_Strawberry kissed hair was intricately woven with cream flowers and their attire consisted of only a pair of silk shorts in a soft lilac with their upper torso wrapped in the same material, the bindings crisscrossing around their chest and tying on the back of their neck._

_Billowy ribbons were linked to a golden wrist cuff on both hands and gave off an otherworldly effect each time the dancer twirled._

_The heavy scent of delicious food and suffocating perfumes put the onlookers in a jovial mood, but the enchanting sight of the dancer moving in such an innocent yet intimate way made their eyes cloud in suppressed want, with only beings of their status capable of achieving such self control, because if not, the delectable creature would've surely never known the light of day, spending the rest of their lives face first in luxurious sheets being ravished from the inside out._

_The dancer could feel the waves of want crashing into him, the audience trying to wordlessly lure them to their sides in hopes that they could use their moves in a more appeasing way._

_Their wordless promises of pleasure and status meant nothing to the dancer, as they gave an alluring shake of their hips. A growl broke their concentration and their waist was suddenly snagged by a strong arm._

_"What have I told you about seducing my guests..." Came a hot breath against the dancers ear._

The dancer sunk into the embrace with a grateful sigh. They were no immortal so despite the waves of persuasion resulting failure, their body still suffered the affect of lust. 

_The dancer bit their lips to muffle a whimper of pleasure when the being who had interrupted their performance ground their hips against the dancers rear._

_"I only wanted information...I would never...ahh..." The dancers clothed bottom was given a firm knead, making them flutter their eyes shut, a rosy pink dusting their cheeks._

_"Is that so? It seems you were after more than information, Amirta," the being growled out, the hand fondling the dancers backside giving a painful squeeze._

_The dancer, identified as Amirta, whimpered in pain, arching their neck so that their submission to the creature was known._

_Sharp teeth nipped at the exposed flesh just as a hand trailed below Amirta's waistline, fingertips brushing the sensitive skin of the dancers inner thigh in a lazy manner._

_Amrita's vision began to cloud, submitting to the pleasures that only the man holding them could invoke.  Violet eyes darkened by a shade when rough lips gently pecked at the corner of their lips._   

_"Tell these fine men and women who you belong to, Amirta," the man pressured, hands slipping under the dancers shorts to fondle them at their most private area._

_"I-I...ahh..."_

_The man chuckled when Amirta's knees began to tremble, and he had to secure an arm around the dancers slim hips to keep them in place._

_"We cannot hear you, love."_

_Long fingers grew more insistent in their poking and prodding which in turn only made the dancer let out a loud gasp of pleasure, their hands clawing at the arm keeping them in place._

_"Ahh!! I...I belong to----!!"_

-0-

Faux pouted as he made a move to slide out of his friends lap, only for the hold around his waist to tighten in warning.  "For Makers sake Vincent! I am not a child!!" The mage shouted.

The templar ignored his outburst and instead buried his face into the mages hair.  Faux felt his cheeks darken in anger and jerked his head backwards in order to knock some sense into his templar friend. 

"Agh!!" Vincent cried, releasing Faux to momentarily clutch at his nose with began to spill droplets of crimson.

Faux felt only a small fraction of guilt at injuring his long time friend, but the more stubborn side of his mind insisted that it was nothing a potion couldn't fix.

Now free of his friends restrictive hold, Faux made a mad dash to the exit, only for the door to open, revealing the mage who had brought him back kicking and screaming from his small bubble of content in the iced forest.

So what if his skin had chilled to the point of developing hypothermia?  Faux had felt fine so being fretted over by Cassandra and Vincent only served to make his already foul mood worsen.

"You shouldn't be up yet Faux.  You were on the verge of collapsing just a few moments ago," Solas pointed out.  Faux glared at the elf and made a move to step around him, but he was denied access to the exit.

"I was not going to to collapse!  I was remembering a memory!!" the mage had shouted for what seemed like the hundredth time.  

Solas made a swish of his hand and suddenly invisible bindings forced the young mage to step away from the door and hauled him towards the opposite side of the room. The poor thing was helpless since Solas had decades of control on his magic while Faux had only been given access to magic only a literal few hours ago thanks to the magic he drained from the fade.

"Let me go!!" He cried, eyes momentarily flashing in rage and a sharp spike of magic acting as a warning. Solas ignored the raging blonde and instead opened his own magic reserves to sample the unstable magic.

What flooded into his core made his eyes go wide and flash a dangerous mix of molten silver and his original murky brown.

All his self control vanished for a fraction of a second which was more than enough to have him crossing the room in quick strides to grab ahold of the mages neck in a potentially fatal hold.

"Who are you?!" Solas growled, the temperature dropping a few sharp degrees.

Faux' change in attitude was immediate as all traces of defiance left him as he went limp in the elf's hold. From his time in the Chantry, he had quickly learned that fighting his tormenters only added to the pain he would definitely receive as punishment when the sun went down, so in order to appease the enraged elf, Faux repeated empty words he had been trained to say to the lustful stares he unwillingly gathered within the inner Chantry.

"I am whatever you want me to be. My body, my life...they are yours to use as you please..." His voice held no hint of emotion and he locked eyes onto Solas', the blue color seeming to flicker about in crazed emotions such as acceptance and complete and utter defeat.

Such a look made the older mage slacken his hold on the mage. He recognized that look...it was a look he's seen many times on his fellow elves. A great portion of his unlucky brethren had been forced into slavery by the humans, many bearing the same haunted look that Faux seemed well accustomed to having plastered on his face.

Solas would've taken a step back if it weren't for a sharp blade held at the back of his head by an angry templar who he had momentarily forgotten remained in the room. 

"Step away slowly elf, and you're life will be spared," Vincent hissed, blood freely pouring out of his nose from the wound Faux had given him. 

Protecting his friend would always be his first priority, and Vincent would crawl on his hands and knees into battle for his mage friend...even if it were Faux who had cut off his limbs in the first place.

Solas slowly released his hold on the mage and rose his hands up in caution, his own expression was that of confusion.

In his far back past, Solas was considered to well aquatinted with the canine beasts that this era seemed to despise, so when his ancient instincts roused from the familiar magic that came from Faux, Solas could do little but react in the way the wolves had reacted back then and now.

He was very territorial and this mage, whoever he was, had the same magical signature he could distinctly remember during his time as the Dread Wolf, God of Betrayal.


End file.
